If I Die Today
by EternalRevival
Summary: Humans have existed along side bots on Cybertron for millenniums through a symbiotic relationship created by the Allspark, yet war threatens to change this delicate balance as Sam discovers the fate of humanity is to be destroyed.
1. Chapter 1

"Sam!"

Sam heaved a sigh and continued to crank his fingers around the wrench, turning and twisting as his muscles ached with exhaustion, but he gladly ignored this just as he gladly ignored the voice.

"Samuel James Witwicky! You had better get your butt down here right now!"

Sam let out another sigh of frustration as the bolt loosened but refused to budge. "Perhaps you should listen to him," suggested the massive bot which caused Sam to pinch the bridge of his nose in irritation and give out one last sigh just to show the world how truly annoying one could be, but really he had no choice to comply because the customer is always right. That and Will sounded as if he was two seconds away from climbing up the massive form of Barricade and knocking him down a peg or two, or a bot shoulder.

Finally relenting, Sam flicked his wrists and allowed the coiled steel cables in the bands of his arms break loose. The cables flying through the air and grappling with claw like hands onto the metal beams that made a horizontal path along the front of the yard before Sam leaped from Barricade's shoulder but not before angrily warning the other not to move least the loosened bolt triggered a malfunction that would most likely result in a horrendous crash.

Touching ground, Sam then turned to look at Will with raised eyebrows in a mock question as the cables quickly retracted back into the bands. Will only rolled his eyes before shoving the data pads he was holding into Sam's chest where the other was forced to grab them before they fell. "Your homework," Will said pointedly at Sam's slight frown.

"I thought we already agreed on the shipment plan for the next month?" Sam asked hesitantly while taking one data pad and placing slight pressure on the edge where the object lit to life, expanded, and presented a bluish hued screen that scrolled at the slightest touch of Sam's finger. "Well this isn't about the shipment plan," Will explained as Sam continued to scroll, quickly reading through the context, before stopping at the daily news that had most likely come out just that morning.

Sam raised his brow. "You yelled at me to stop working on a customer just to make me read the news?" he asked irritability. Will, slightly taller than Sam with calloused hands that could kill, merely shrugged his shoulders and waved his hand for Sam to read the article, somehow managing to make the whole movement appear elegant.

Frowning, Sam quickly skimmed through the article again. As expected, it relayed the most recent news on a group of a resistance group that had recently splintered from the growing Decepticon party. There were rumors of an all out declaration of war as already a few skirmishes had resulted in the death of two front-line parabatai. The group had slowly been growing in support and it was now that the council deemed them as a threat.

"What does this have to do with anything?" Sam asked bitterly as Will sighed in frustration. "You know what it means," he spoke in an exasperated tone with a pointed glare aimed directly at Sam which caused the other to flinch. "There's no doubt now, were going to war." Sam shook his head. "No, it's just some media attention, it'll die down sooner or later."

"Sam, you don't know that," Will continued but Sam had stopped listening, the latter once again flicking out the cables which grappled onto Barricade's shoulder, the bot not flinching as he was long used to this, before retracting the said cables back sending Sam propelling into the air. "I have better things to do than gossip on the job!" he shouted back at Will before landing on Barricade's shoulder and pulling out his wrench to finish his work.

But for the rest of his shift, the idea haunted him. He was no fool and adverse as he was, war was becoming an undeniable reflex of the brewing hatred that stewed even in Sam's own mind. War was inevitable, and everyone on Cybertron knew it.

Cybertron, home to humans and bots alike both created in a symbiotic relationship by the Allspark in a perfect collision of raw power and familial bonds. Or at least that's what all members of society have been taught, installed at an early age that their world was perfect, measured by the success of their structures that could, quite literally, scrape the atmosphere.

The bots provided the power and intellect that raised their home planet from the roots up while humans provided the energy and means to create, and thus mutual survival between the two have led to the coexistence that Cybertron was built off of. Perhaps it was the Allspark's design, to create massive, towering robots that inhabited the whole planet, and then humans that were naturally born with excessive amounts of radiating energy used to provide valuable life source to bots that depended on it. But regardless of reason, it was a relationship that all have come to understand as a key part of survival for the bots could not live excessively without the energy provided by humans and humans, in their fragile bodies of skin and bone, needed the efficacy of the Allspark's creations powered by bots to continue civilization.

All bots and humans alike are born through the Allspark's powers, metallic bodies given to the protectors and life energy given to the foundation of Cybertron. As such, each bot was connected through some invisible thread of the soul to a human and vice-versa. Known as parabatais, such bonded are closely connected, tied together, and inseparable. Exchanging protection for sustaining force, it had become more than just a friendship of benefits, but also a soul binding connection that to break was a sin.

Such was the delicate balance between robots and humans that existed on Cybertron, and such was the fate of one to destroy the other.

 **AN- I decided to take a break from my other story, and I couldn't get this idea out of my head. The idea is based off of The Golden Compass and the Mortal Instruments series where everyone is connected to some other person or creature. Basically, humans exist on Cybertron far before Earth and they are all mutually bonded with a "brother in arms". I'll try to explain it further later on, but I'm still working out the kinks. I will try to do a few chapters of this story, but I'll most likely try to finish my other stories first before I really begin on this one. Thanks for reading and all comments are appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

Sam never bothered much thinking of such whimsical things, that was the job of the Council, and Sam was more than willing to let the Council deal with whatever conundrum the world came up with next. No, Sam absolutely abhorred the politics of Cybertron and stayed well clear of such situations, but now with the war brewing, even he was finding this to be impossible.

Born into a family of mechanics, Sam had become one himself. A person who's job border lined upon a medic and a simple tools merchant, but Sam loved it all the same. He had inherited the yard, a large wasteland like dump that had been cleared with large metal beams providing air routes for humans via grappling gloves which, made from a combination of leather and steel, shot out a cabled hooks from the top knuckles that fit snugly on the user's hands and had become a useful tool used by all humans as a reliable and easy way to move around their larger companions. Invented by Wheeljack, it had namely become only one out of the bot's many claims to fame.

His parents, previous owners of the mechanic shop had decided to go into permanent retirement and left the entire business and yard to Sam and his parabatai Bumblebee as they traveled the world (or whatever it was parents pretend to do these days). Not that he was complaining, it was a dream come true as he now worked freely to do his own bidding, except when his co-manager William Lennox decided to bug him, but other than that it was a total dream.

Sam's business mainly consisted of cleaning and fixing the minor disturbances that plagued every bot along with rebuilding and selling tools and upgrades although it was illegal to sell high-grade weapons to the public much less own one unless somehow corresponded to the line of duty. Will being one such man as he, and his parabatai Ironhide, were both prominent members of the army enlisted in a co-op agency. Sometimes Sam doubted their authenticity, but Will was a great partner in the business world, war hero or not, and an even better friend.

Sam and Bumblebee, however, held no such reserves as they were, in the eyes of the government, merely average citizens. The two had met at a relatively young age, both only a century old which was typical for most to find their parabatai, and the two had just clicked because really there was no other way to explain it. Parabatais were connected through a deep bond that dug its way through the heart, mind, and soul. For Sam and Bumblebee, it had just happened, and now, Sam couldn't remember a life without the other.

The two had run the business for over two centuries now, and despite the stereotyping of mechanic bots, Bumblebee had never found a need to change protoforms. While most bots that lived their whole lives in the business of mechanical engineering held larger frames with the purpose of heavy lifting and storing multiple tools and mechanical procedures to aid in the fixing or melding of damages Bumblebee, however, had none of these. His main frame being significantly smaller (about half the average height) than that of a typical mechanic, but what he lost in strength, he gained in speed. Useful for running errands, Bumblebee sometimes would leave the shop for periods of time to drive to the docks, pick up cargo and shipments and bring it back record time, yet this still left the heavy weightlifting which Sam would have to be a fool to even consider trying by himself. Thankfully, Ironhide was more than willing to help leaving the massive muscle work to him and Lennox much to Sam's relief because really, he couldn't hire anyone else.

"Another shipment of cartridges?" Will asked as Bumblebee pulled up against the curb of the yard hauling a large wooden box which, true to Will's words, held bundles of bullet casings. "You buy any more of these and the Council will think your trying to build an army," he accused while pointing a finger at Sam's chest which the other haughtily ignored. "It's fine," Sam explained with a wave of his hand. "With the fear of a war brewing many are starting to order more of these for protection so there's a perfectly good explanation for buying more and besides, these are pretty low-grade bullets."

Will glanced wearily at the box as Bee released his cargo and transformed to his robotic mode. "Seems legit to me," Bee said, clearly agreeing with Sam which only caused Will to roll his eyes in exasperation. "Of course you would side with him Bumblebee," he said in a reprimanding tone before calling Ironhide to walk over and help him dispatch the new crates.

Sam only watched and smirked because that was clearly his victory before turning to Bee and climbing onto the other's hand when offered. "Thanks buddy," Sam spoke and was satisfied with Bee returning his wide grin.

While they had not lied to Will, it still amused them greatly to fluster the old war hero.

It was then that Sam heard the sound of screeching tires and jerked his head up in surprise, a warning on the tip of his tongue but it immediately died as he watched a familiar police car cruise in. "Right on time," Bee mumbled quietly which caused Sam to smile slightly for it was always true.

The police car halted a few feet from Bee's form before the passenger door opened, Mikeala striding out confidently as Barricade transformed out of his alt mode. Before either Sam or Bee could yell out a greeting, Mikeala had already started yelling at Sam from atop his podium on Bee's shoulder. "Did the shipment arrive?"

Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes before signaling for Bee to let him down (although they knew each other so well that it had merely become in act of reinforcing movement). "Yeah, I'll split the shells and then give you what you ordered," Sam responded back easily.

Mikaela and Barricade, members of the law enforcement, Cade just so happening to be Bumblebee's elder brother, had previously asked for more cartridges since Cade's last medical exam due to a slightly wounded shoulder from a bad hit caused by another delinquent claiming to be a member of the Quintessans, a recent developing group. Mikaela, in all her mother hen like worry, had immediately demanded Sam stock up on more bullets in case another occurrence, where the requirement of shooting was needed, ever arose.

And Sam, being Sam, complied because business is business, and it was for that reason only, even if Bumblebee's optics said otherwise.

The two, being close family and friends, came to the yard often, especially when in need of repair rather than going through what Mikaela called the hum drum of seeing a medic. But really the pair had always come to greet Sam and Bumblebee on their daily route, plus the repairs were much cheaper. Regardless, they had become daily customers for the two and as such, close friends and correspondence.

Of the two, Mikaela was the brash talker and thinker of the pair leaving her parabatai to do most of the heavy work and car chasing with her excitedly half hanging out the window gun in hand and face lit with unadulterated joy. Yes, there was a reason those two joined the force, but between the two of them, they made an undoubtedly scary team and Sam didn't hesitate to say they were the last pair he would ever want chasing his tail if he ever found himself on the wrong side of the law, not that Bee couldn't give them a run for their money.

"There are rumors of troops gaining advantage in the Southern regions," Mikaela mused to herself slightly, Barricade talking to Bumblebee through their singular communication of spark bonds and warbles that only the robots could understand. "Yes," Sam mumbled to himself quietly, a headache already forming at the mere reminder of all the shipments he was required to send in for aid to the war effort along the Southern borders of Iacon where the Kaon city-state's greatest control remained.

Mikaela watched him, her eyes narrowed in the tell tale sign of her deep in thought before her face softened into a gentle smile of reassurance. "You fear," she whispered quietly, her hand reaching out to rest on Sam's shoulder in comfort. Sam immediately scoffed, his pride slightly wounded, before shrugging off her gesture in a single fluid motion and turning away, not daring to look her in the face least she made him confess that yes, indeed he was terrified. Instead he merely grumbled, "Not afraid, worried."

Mikaela merely rolled her eyes, smirking slightly in amusement and added, almost haughtily, "Sure, but don't you worry Sammy, with me and Barricade on the job, your completely safe from the big baddies." Sam flinched from her teasing as she stood in front of him, fingers playfully pinching at his cheeks in a painful, petulant manner that caused Sam to angrily slap her hand away. "Mikaela! Stop it!", but Mikaela was like a sister to him, and like all annoying siblings, ignored his warning and instead gripped him tighter.

Her fingers curled slightly around Sam's shoulders before she drew him into a large bear hug, spindly arms encircled around his own thin frame. "Don't worry," she whispered quietly in his ear so their parabatai couldn't hear. "I'm afraid too."

* * *

The war came not suddenly, not with the big explosions, screaming, and death that many had expected. Instead it came through the quite holograms that surrounded the cities, lit upon large streaming buildings and echoing with the dull monotone voice of their leader, Sentinel Prime, across every plateau, every home, including the yard which had three set up on all sides to give customers a widening view. Sometimes, random street goers and a few occasional passerbys would come as well when to far from the nearest screen resulting in a multitude of people and bots alike at the yard today, as today was the day to do just that.

Sam was standing on Bumblebee's shoulder, his parabatai, although short was still able to view the holographic screen, shimmering in blue against the streaming sun, as the Prime spoke of the dangers of war and the undeniable outcome that would involve full out attack, gathering and swaying his troops to fight now before there wouldn't be city left to fight for.

Standing there, on the comfort and safety of Bee's shoulder, Sam watched as the bots and people around him, all parabatai, watched in deathly silence as the speech continued. It was there, for the first time, he heard those words.

"This is war."

 **AN- So the main problem I currently have is that there are far more bots than there are humans, meaning that I'm not exactly sure what groups of parabatai are going together. But thanks for reading, and if you have suggestions, then I'm glad to listen.**


	3. Chapter 3

"No, I refuse. There has to be another way," Sam insisted for the umpteenth time. His voice was already beginning to crack from the strain as his throat closed with fear and he found himself struggling to speak, to concentrate.

Will turned around, face drawn into a gentle smile that Sam rarely saw. It was the smile that the other reserved for what would later become painful memories. His own way of reassuring Sam that everything was alright, but it did the exact opposite as Sam suddenly felt his throat constrict and tears beginning to well up in his eyes even though he denied himself the right to cry. He was a man! He didn't need consoling!

But as soon as Will's strong arms wrapped securely around him, Sam couldn't help but lean his forehead against the other's shoulder, heaving out breathes as he desperately held back any emotions and failed.

Will was a war hero, and as such, the first to be deported off. "You worry too much," Will said fondly, ruffling Sam's short hair slightly with his free arm. "I've been through hell once, I'm pretty sure I can come back from this one too." But there was an edge to his voice, a slight hint of worry that Sam recognized. This war wasn't a simple small skirmish that came with protecting the borders of Iacon, no this was utter annihilation with the two biggest city-states in Cybertron.

"If I tell the Council you're needed here, they won't be able to draft you," Sam declared determinedly, as he watched Ironhide in the distance. The large bot's metallic body gleaming as he helped Bee with the last of the day's load. The two talking quietly in small warbles which Sam could tell, if Bee's face was any indicator, was a good-bye.

Will heaved out a heavy sigh half of frustration and amusement and also regret before shaking his head. "I have to go, and I wouldn't be more proud. Besides, they need old men like me to stop the war now before they have to send kids like you," Will continued under his breath which only caused Sam to flinch because of all the decades the two had spent together, Will had made it obvious that he hated being called old.

Sam only frowned in response before giving the other one last hug. "Be safe," he mumbled quietly before Will gave him one last firm pat on the head, called out for Ironhide and left.

There was a little part of Sam that always felt like it was missing something, and during that day, watching Will leave with his parabatai, that little hole grew bigger. Bumblebee felt it too.

It was a few days later that the first sounds of war erupted across the planet in a series of news reports and holograms. Television screens stretched across the buildings broadcasting to the world, letting everyone know that the war has come, and it was only a matter of time before they found it sitting on their doorsteps, peaking through the cracks and slaughtering those who had yet to see it.

Sam had told himself that he wouldn't, yet here he was. His eyes searching the news, stopping in the middle of his work to watch the daily reports that now came at the hour as the fighting progressed. The war had found its way to Sam's home starting from the hologram at the yard to the growing fear in the city to, finally, Sam's own heart which choked upon the gloom. Everyday, every hour, as his ears recognized the soft tune at the beginning of a report, so familiar that it had burned itself within Sam's memory, he would find himself turning to watch the screen, eyes peeled for the familiar faces of the dead. Searching wildly each day with a bated breath for the one report that would one day show him the smiling face of Will and Ironhide, gone.

But a week passed as the war grew steadily from two city-states to five. The numbers of missing, injured, and dead growing in rank. Sam was grateful to not see the faces of those he knew flash across the screen each day, yet the fear grew until Sam gave up and merely refused to look at the screen, attempting to tune out the familiar sound of a report, burning out the sound of talking, forcing his head to remain in place and to not look.

He had then asked Mikeala to not tell him if or when Will or Ironhide died. Partly so the date would hold no meaning, so he could forget what innocent task he was doing when they perished, when he should have been helping them, or at least die trying to. Second, to forever live under the pretense that they were still breathing the same air as him, enjoying the same joys that came with living.

Somehow, Sam had survived those first few months with just the calming presence of Mikeala, Barricade, and the ever persistent warmth the resonated from Bee in some permanent wave. But even so, the business was waning as the fear grew. The yard was steadily losing income and Sam had lost the movement in his hands, the one distractor that he welcomed from reality. It was frustrating.

Bumblebee would then try to amuse Sam, bringing him on long joy rides that they haven't done for years since inheriting the yard. They would explore the city which had changed drastically. There was no more luxury shops. Those had long been closed, replaced with a growing housing facility for the poverty stricken that now worked under minimum payment. Factories bordering the city's outer rim with thick ash and soot that blackened the sky gray. The moon steadily turning red under the pollution pumped out into the open air in a haze of death and mysery. The docks were now crowded with shipments of raw materials, exports of the factories production of steel, bullets, and an arsenal of weapons that one single shot from a foolish bot could lead the whole thing to erupt in flames, and the city along with it.

The community had changed. It was no longer about living. It was about not dying.

Sam was searching through the emails, watching the depletion of money, the recent income of supplies, and finally, the threat of shutting down that remained pressing against the back of his mind as he nervously filtered through the last remaining holograms. It was then that he found it at the very bottom of the list, sent to him near midnight.

Sam's eyes widened, his body freezing in shock as the sound of the clock ticked by, his heart momentarily stopping because he recognized that insignia of the government stamped across the front of the hologram, glowing in a halo of blue against the grain of the static.

No, no, no. Sam chanted in his head out of fear, out of panic as his fingers shook heavily, yet he forced himself to open the mail, tear through the information, searching for that one single line. Killed in action.

Sam could feel Bee's panic through the bond as his parabatai tried to reassure him despite not yet knowing. The bond flooded with Sam's panic and Bee's reassurance laced through in an intricate weaving of colors and raw power that bled from their emotions.

But it wasn't there.

Those three words remained vacant on the hologram, and Sam felt his body collapse with relief even as his mind burned with curiosity. If it was not the death of Will or Ironhide, then what?

Bumblebee was driving out, grabbing the last shipment Sam had ordered before the recent fluctuation of prices though Sam had reassured his parabatai that it would only be brief, and they would simply tough it out until the prices decreased again. Yet, even Sam knew that the prices would remain high to the public while the war continued as a majority of supplies and food were shipped off to the army.

Regardless, Bee could not return to their abode, not for another hour as the shipment had been brought to the furthest block on the other side of the city. The lesser used port as the others remained for the factories and government businesses alone.

Bee remained questioning on his side of the bond, prodding for answers that Sam did not yet possess. Sam, in turn, slightly warned the other off in amusement as he couldn't help but relish in the relief that no one he knew had died. A short relief that dissipated with the shallow winds and disappeared in the thickened air just as the life he once lived seemed to scatter across his memories. A distant reality.

Sam hesitated, unsure, yet Bee's warble of worry through their bond forced him to answer.

"Bee, were being drafted."


	4. Chapter 4

"Again," Sam insisted clearly. His desperation showing through and his panic threading its way through their bond. "One last time."

But he had said that hours ago as well and the two had gotten no where since that time lapse, yet Bumblebee continued without complaint. His optics shuttering down as he concentrated and desperately reached out for the bonds of their parents. Sam, standing on Bee's chasis, watched his parabatai with an attentive gaze, searching for any signs of success.

But there were none. No indication that his message had been reached.

They had been trying for hours to communicate with Sam's parents and Bee's creators,but it was all in vain as their former source of connection, which included instant messages that could connect two bots' minds from galaxies away, had been shut down since the first marks of war. Now, the two were left with only their spark bond as the final connection, yet even that remained utterly silent.

"I can try again," Bumblebee spoke softly as Sam only shook his head in defeat. His exhausted form slumped over Bee as he tried to calm his own racing heart. Communication did not come without consequences and Sam was exhausted from the constant use of energy that had been sapped from his usual reserve. It was a complicated procedure that Sam knew little of, yet all bots and humans were taught the complexity of their symbiotic relationship since stage one.

Bots, created from the Allspark's flow of power, had the large metallic bodies of invincible strength while humans, born with the planet's life force in their veins, were naturally capable of producing energon within their bodies as the only organic life forms on Cybertron. Thus, bots protected a human as their parabatai who in turn provided the much needed life force that all bots relied upon.

But for times like now, it held its downfalls. Sam could feel his arms beginning to shake from the over exertion of energy and his mind clouding with exhaustion.

Bee was quick to take notice and warbled out in warning at Sam as Sam tried to clear his head from the fogginess that had already begun to take over. "Yes, yes. I hear you Bee," Sam mumbled quietly. "Let's give it a break for now." The flow of energy, a soft blue hue that exuded from the human body, suddenly slowing until it stopped completely and left only a silver haze that soon disappeared as well. Energon, as beautiful as it was, came at a price which was why most humans could only provide enough energy for their own parabatai.

Thus, depending on the person, a bot could range from many sizes all based upon one's ability to create enough energon. The larger the bot, the larger the energy required to keep them stable. Yet, there were also alternatives as other planets, found to contain fossilized liquids, were mined and extracted of their oil which was given to bots who had lost their parabatais and thus had to find a new energy source, and while it was a cheap energy guzzler, many found it as the last resort and most bots refused to take it for its vile appearance as well as taste.

Indeed, society had despised the use of oil so much that many bots preferred death over drinking it after the death of their partners. It was a sad yet ringing truth that left the ideology that one did not deserve to live if they could not protect their own soul partner from death.

"Sam Witwicky, Bumblebee," a voice called out causing Bee to jump up from his sitting position and for Sam to scramble for a hold on the bot's armor. "Are you ready?" a women asked by the front desk from her own position next to her own parabatai, a small mini-bot that continued clicking at the computer. "Yes, ma'am," Sam sputtered nervously, his exhaustion forgotten.

The bond sporadic with nervous energy, Sam watched as they were lead towards one of many rooms that lined the hallway. A tall burly man, standing on a centered metal desk with his towering bot behind, waiting upon the other side of the door. "Samuel James Witwicky," the man began speaking quickly before Bee could even place his hand on the table to create a bridge for Sam to cross.

Sam could already tell he would hate this interview.

"Any special skills I should be aware of?" the man continued as Sam finally touched down on the table slab. "Err, no-"

"Is there any job in particular that you would like or think you would do well in?"

"Umm mechanic-"

"How do you think you could benefit the army?"

Wait, wasn't he being drafted? Did he have a choice?! "By doing my job?"

"And is there any special skills or talents that your parabatai has in any particular field?"

"Ugh, he's fast-"

"Very well Mr. Witwicky. You and your parabatai are to report to sector three for your first job. Come to the station tomorrow and four in the morning. We will then move and reassign you depending on your suited skills," the man said not even looking up once before he shooed the two back towards the exit. "What? Wait, what is our job-?" Sam's voice died down into confusion as the door was quickly slammed as soon as Bee's doorwings got through. Sam could only stare in pure befuddlement before glancing at Bee who only shrugged.

Sam then let out a resigned sigh of frustration before giving Bee a slight smile. "Let's go home big guy."

The next morning, it was _way_ to early to even be considered morning, Sam awoke at the ungodly hour of three and jostled himself awake as the two then left for the morning train. The large metal contraption already stock full of other men also being the second wave of drafted future soldiers. The bots sitting on the large berths chained to the ground and ceiling, yet, despite this feature, continued to bump and rattle at each turn the train made. The men were then given seats above their parabatais upon a large metal slab with metal hooks nailed to the ceiling for quick movement using the grappling gloves, every humans first tool kept close at hand, yet even those appeared rusted and weathered down to the point that Sam didn't dare put his weight on them or face the wraith of falling.

That would hurt.

Instead, Sam kept close to Bee. Sitting on the other's shoulder while listening to the sound of moving chains and the occasional cough and shuffle from their cramped neighbors. It would be a long ride to sector three and an even longer night of rest as the day fell away to night. The rattling of chains keeping everyone awake and only the bots, who could shut down their audio receptors, were able to fall easily into a stasis nap.

Regardless, Bee stayed wide awake with Sam despite the other's protests before Sam finally resigned.

"Bee try again," Sam whispered quietly through the silent train, but the two tried, they tried many times for hours and yet still no results. Finally Sam collapsed exhausted against Bee's chasis where he had been sitting on top of the other in an effort to pulse more energy into Bee's already exhausted form. But to no avail, they could not contact Sam's parents nor Bee's creators. "I'm sorry," Bee spoke softly to Sam in which Sam only shook his head because it was partly his fault to. He couldn't provide enough natural energy to give to the other anymore due to the lack of food making their attempts weak at best. "We'll try again tomorrow."

Bee nodded his helm once, optics dimming down as he began to offline. Sam only watched as the train fell into darkness and he was left alone, the last soul awake on the train that would lead to their deaths.

 **AN - Sorry for the long wait, but thank you so much for you patience. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**


	5. Chapter 5

The first time Sam had gotten off the train he was met with the officer in command Willliam Lennox. The two had only taken a few seconds to glance at each other amidst the roaring crowd of cadets before Will had run up to Sam and the two embraced in a large (manly) bear hug. The moment was brief, but it washed away Sam's fears and reminded him of why men went to war. He wasn't here because of a draft; he was here to fight for Will.

Though Sam didn't see Ironhide, Bee had reassured him that the other was near by as Sam and Will reconciled. But soon the relief was gone as Sam began to feel the effects of war.

Sam felt the slow trickle of sweat running down his temple, trailing across his cheek, and dripping steadily at the edge of his jaw. A thin sheen of sweat clinging to his skin with pools of dark, saline liquid staining his shirt along with the oil stains. His upper arms ached from the constant lifting, but it was his legs that burned the worst with the huge acres of land that made up the military camp.

While the bots carried the heavy beams and large equipment, the more delicate objects of trigger happy guns and readily fused bombs were tasked to Sam and his small brigand of burly men that relentlessly teased Sam for his lack of muscle.

Their captain, a large man with broad shoulders and an eight pack chest had, the first time he met Sam, squinted his eyes before commenting, "I'm pretty sure I had a girlfriend that is stronger than you." Needless to say, _that_ had lead to more jokes.

Regardless, the work was not entirely too difficult if it wasn't for the sun constantly burning and beating relentlessly against their backs. Sam didn't have time to watch the news, not that television or access to the outside world was allowed, but Bee was able to garner some occasional information from the nearby radio waves whenever he was tasked with guarding the border lands near the edge of the camp. This area was forbidden for the humans whom the command center believed was too dangerous. The land well known for having buried mines and enough gun powder to separate a man's front half from the back a good mile apart, but that was the only area known to have access to the outside world as weak signals reached the barrier of their camp, so only the bots could relay the information to their smaller counterparts.

But news spread quickly throughout the camp as Sam soon found out.

Clutz, as they had graciously nicknamed one of the cadets after he tripped over a rock (twice), had managed to, in an effort to regain his pride despite his nickname, had snuck into one of the captain's private rooms and managed to steal a report that quickly spread across the camp like wild fire.

Cybertron's temperature had radically increased since the beginning of the war as the atmosphere thickened and the sun's rays intensified. Though the report explained the heat, there was nothing anyone could do but bear the burden and trudge through. But despite Sam's internal encouragements to ignore the suffocating rays, Sam found everything to be insufferably too _hot_.

He could not stand it. He couldn't sleep, he couldn't move, or even breathe without the weight of the heat constantly reminding him of its damn presence. He hated it.

Bee was quick to notice and let Sam sleep against his chasis where the cool armor and internal fans kept the heat at bay for a few hours until Sam fell asleep. But during the day, Sam was on his own.

Sam was not one to easily burn. Tan: yes. Burn: no. But one day he had made a final mistake.

The brigand, as they liked to call themselves, were working in the burning sun again with large crates of ammo that Sam was surprised had not lit up and burst into an inferno despite the heat when the group finally decided to discard their shirts saturated with sweat. The cloth only irritating them as it clung to their skin and thus forwent the extra covering all together.

It had been fine at first, providing Sam with some freedom and even better so when he leaned against a metal beam that had been sitting in the shade. The cool contact against his skin immediately releasing a heavy sigh of contentment from Sam's lips. But the relief did not last long as the burn of heat began to prickle along Sam's back starting from his shoulders and the back of his neck.

He ignored the pain at first until a fellow cadet worriedly told Sam that his skin had turned a bright shade of scarlet red. Sam had first ignored the other's warning and had insisted he was fine because the last thing he wanted was to appear as a quitter in front of an army of men that could literally tease the life out of him. But soon after Sam began to feel dizzy and had suddenly took a large stumble to the ground during the afternoon. His captain had immediately demanded he take a break, but Sam didn't even look at the other before suddenly collapsing and blacking out.

Sam awoke the next morning to pain. Bright red sweltering blisters burning across his upper arms and neck. The pain was far too great for Sam to even lift his head in acknowledgment of Bee warbling outside his window in obvious fear. His need to reassure the other was blocked out by the searing pain and exhaustion that dragged him to sleep with his conscious trailing after.

He had been told that soon after his heat stroke he had been transferred to the healing ward and was placed on medical leave. The feeling of cool air against his back did little to ease his pain however. The burns, though disgustingly raw, would heal with time and medication, but the scars that would remain were brutal. The damage was so extensive that he was forced to lay on his stomach and twist his neck painfully against the pillow. They left white gouges across his back where the burns were the worst, the skin rough and uneven in patches of fleshy shades compared to the tan of his upper legs, the only splotch of skin spared from the sun's rays where his thick shorts had protected them. It was hideous, and Sam was grudgingly glad that he could not see the scarred back, not even in the mirror where he strained his neck to catch a glimpse of the unsightly sight of war etched across his skin.

It was then, while he was recovering in the ward that he met Will. Sam's eyes had widened almost comically as he struggled to get up and greet the other, yet Will immediately placed a reassuring hand against Sam's head and told him to rest.

It was shocking and Sam had the sudden weary fear that he was delusional from the constant heat, but Will's constant talking and interaction with the room said otherwise causing Sam to relax in the other man's presence.

"How's it going kid?" Will asked quietly as he sat on the back of his haunches to meet Sam's eye level on the bed. "Fine," Sam mumbled quietly, his mouth too dry despite all the water he had greedily drank before. Will had only smiled slightly in response, his mouth twitched slightly downward despite the smile in obvious worry. His eyes crinkled near the edge and glinting with fear.

"Don't worry Sam. I already spoke to my superiors. I told them you're a good mechanic and they will transfer you to another sector. Then you won't have to work in the sun as long."

There was a pause as Sam tried to respond, yet his mouth was suddenly too heavy to move and his body began to drift half between the world of the living and the shadows of his dreams. He wanted to tell Will that he didn't want to be transferred, that he and Bee were fine, and that he wanted to stay with Will after having worried for so long that the other would die without Sam's knowledge, but nothing came out.

Will only watched him for another brief moment before once again patting Sam's head, the only part of him that wasn't burned, and whispering quietly, "I'm sorry."

Sam tried to stop him, yell at him that he was fine, but he couldn't force himself to move. He wanted to tell Will that it wasn't his fault and to reassure him that he wasn't the little kid Will seemed so eager to perceive him as, but the darkness refused to let him go, and Sam found his mind falling into the blissful calm of sleep.

Then Will got up and the room became empty again.

 **AN- So I apologize for not updating this fic as frequently as my other, but I'm grateful for anyone who has read and/or reviewed. Thanks for bearing with my slow updates.**


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